Why did I ever think I should go it alone?
Women lawyers: Going it alone is stressful and expensive; you have options.
We are interconnected. When I started to tap into this intentionally, my life shifted.
I used to consider my mindset, and who I surrounded myself with, a solid part of my life without much room for change. Then, when things started to fall apart for me, I reconsidered everything, and eventually, I found freedom.
Hi, I’m Rachel. I’m a mother of two teenagers, a lover of art, a student of Zen Buddhism - and a recovering lawyer.
I stopped practicing law early on, but that didn’t help: you can take the girl out of the law but that doesn’t magically take the law(yer brain) out of the girl: I had already become habituated to staying “productive” every possible moment, having impossibly high expectations for myself, and intellectualizing my every obstacle as a challenge I could “solve” (and then obsess, ruminate and worry about those challenges nonstop).
When I experienced the transformative power of community, and witnessed how others influenced me, I became very intentional about it, and the changes started coming fast.
Early Beginnings
When I was young, my parents instilled in me that law school was what “I” wanted. My dad, having grown up poor, required his three kids to choose professions that would guarantee financial security. As the oldest, I was the textbook “good girl,” a disciplined student who did what I was told, seeking approval through my accomplishments, seeking belonging wherever it was offered, and ignoring my own needs. In my teenage years, my caring, compassionate nature matured into a lifelong passion for social justice. Law school seemed to make great sense, all around.
Except.
My parents never understood my inner life; they didn’t see an economic value in my creativity, couldn't relate to my idealism, and actively discouraged my empathy. I began confusing my academic achievements with my worth as a human being, and grew into a people pleaser, who struggled with anxiety, and sought control over much of life. Childhood survival traits grew into adult behaviors that left me feeling very disconnected from others, and disassociated from my own feelings and needs, until I couldn’t even identify them.
We can love someone but not truly see them. I grew up to become an adult who really didn’t know how to see my own talents for the longest time - until a rupture began to wake me up.
I stopped practicing law, but brought my lawyer brain with me.
After growing up in a provincial suburb, and undergraduate years at Binghamton University, I finally moved to a bustling city for law school: Pittsburgh. I loved exploring the city and my classmates were smart, witty, and entertaining. I felt so grown up, being somewhat on my own, finally.
Law school was mentally intense, and I buried myself in my studies, which was a familiar, well-practiced way to deal with stress, and of course; one that is professionally sanctioned. I didn’t question it. My dad is a workaholic, and a lifelong learner, so I felt prepared. My first legal job was representing unionized Mexican immigrants who were being exploited by their employer, but the labor laws I had to rely on were toothless when it came to protecting them. My sense of living in a dangerous, cruel world began to deepen.
I felt pulled to move closer to family, took the New York State bar exam, and got a job in a mid-size firm near where I grew up. I reconnected with old friends, made new ones, and yet, a deep, pervasive loneliness started to grow inside me. Toxic behavior at my new workplace deepened my feelings of powerlessness, like when my boss described his wife’s body and how it had changed over the years, and encouraged me to dress more attractively. I was outraged, but of course, felt that I “couldn’t” respond. My friends didn’t work in aggressive, masculine environments, and I didn’t feel confident that they’d understand and have any actionable advice. I was isolated and frightened, and my confidence started to erode. I became hypervigilant, always surveying for danger. Bad news would overwhelm me, and I would amplify it internally. I became obsessed with protecting myself (and others) from perceived risks. I thought a career change would fix things, so I networked with business leaders in town, and in short order, started a new career working in the real estate development sector.
I began dating a man my parents approved of, and a year later, we got engaged. We bought a house, and expanded our social circle. On the outside, I was thriving. Internally, it was anything but.
The pressure to always smile left me feeling invisible.
Breadwinning, being the “perfect” wife, and participating in community leadership occupied all my waking moments. With little room for rest, self-development, and true connection, I would chant internally, “I am a robot.” Motherhood intensified the pressure on my shoulders. Our culture encourages selflessness; I’ve since heard it coined “toxic resilience.”
As my career progressed, I heard a call.
At work, my boss and his partner told me that I had transformed their business, yet snorted when I asked about moving into leadership. I realized my career there would always be as a supporting player. My ambitions were in conflict with the cards stacked against me.
My husband was a deeply caring man, but we were wired so differently; my efforts to have a deeper connection felt fruitless. My loneliness was suffocating.
In seeking belonging where I was never going to find it, I never felt “seen.” I didn’t have any outside perspectives that I truly valued. I had lost myself.
I collapsed internally. However, out of my darkest depression, a crack had formed: I became willing to question everything around me, including my rigid adherence to workaholism, perfectionism, and overthinking.
I walked into our local Zen center, and signed up for a beginner’s workshop.
An experience grabbed my attention.
Around this time, my husband was in an organization whose core offering was participation in an intimate, curated peer group that met periodically to primarily discuss work challenges (a “mastermind”). The group adhered to a regular meeting calendar, was bound by confidentiality, kept rules regarding timekeeping and leadership, and curated the group’s makeup when turnover occurred. When they launched a group for spouses, I raised my hand, hoping to connect with others who shared my ambitions.
The First Test
I loved the structure and the concept, but this particular group wasn’t for me. The women were caring and warm, but we didn’t share the same aspirations, given that the central qualifier for admission was simply being an entrepreneur’s spouse. I stuck around for a while, because I loved their personalities and warmth, but ultimately, I didn’t feel enough alignment with the other wives.
Meanwhile, I transitioned from traditional real estate into solar development, and I began climbing the corporate ladder all over again. When I got divorced around age 40, I finally took my need for internal and external connection more seriously.
I craved a quieter mind, so I pursued meditation.
I joined the Rochester Zen Center, seeking community with others who were on “the path” and wanting to tame our minds. There, I connected instantly with an instructor, Eryl, who would become my mentor over the following decade (and still is). Eryl, and later other members of the community there, began teaching me not just how to meditate, but more broadly, how to lead a more intentional, peaceful life. I began “working with” my anger by studying nonviolence. It wasn’t seamless: my culture passed down our tradition by debate, I am a firstborn “bossy” girl, and all of this was codified by my earning a law degree: the propensity to argue, dominate and seek control runs deep. Here, my persistence was a huge asset; nonviolence taught me how to connect with anyone, and it melted my heart and gave me hope.
Over on the meditation cushion, things were just as challenging: the Buddhist instruction to “watch” my thoughts instead of “engaging” with them made no sense; we are professionally trained (and I was personally raised) to only give attention to my brain's analytical output.
I couldn’t see yet how cruel I was speaking to myself. The critical, judgmental streak that I used to think had helped me to score earlier “wins” (achievements) was in opposition to letting me relax and “surrender” to the passive side of Buddhist practice. I knew I was in the right place, but things weren’t clicking - yet.
I noticed a pattern emerging: I was spending more and more of my time among women lawyers. We were all hard-working, well-read, and snarky. We showed up with both empathy and strategy. I felt “seen,” finally.
A second pattern emerged: I found a way to help others; coaching colleagues and friends on their networking, negotiating, and career transition strategy. As a “power networker,” it was pure play for me to coach them how to get in front of whomever they wanted. I realized that I love helping them rethink how to use their networks, and I was helping them grow their careers. In a sense, this dovetailed with the expanding sense of connection I was waking up to from my meditation and my study of nonviolence: there is no “other,” we are all interconnected.
Alone, I couldn’t overcome my barriers nor wake up to my own superpowers; I was normal in needing an outsider’s perspective.
Getting closer to cracking the code.
I was determined to create a more authentic and aligned life. A friend circle of women lawyers welcomed me, and I observed ground rules that mimicked my earlier peer group experience: speak honestly, do not compete, behave generously, and encourage everyone to be the best version of themselves. It was not something that typically happens organically.
In that circle, I received holistic support like I had never experienced before. In short order, I made massive changes for the better: I left an unhealthy relationship, moved into a beautiful home with my boys, and started my own business.
Light at the end of the tunnel
My women lawyer group gave me a renewed sense of confidence that I hadn’t expected: it felt great to overcome so many life obstacles, but also, I realized that my studies of compassion (Buddhism), nonviolence and my healing journey, taken together, gave me a unique perspective on our combative, perfectionistic, and anxiety-prone tendencies, and I was able to help them in their journeys, too.
In time, realizing that some of my earlier traumas had become unhelpful patterns in my adult life, I entered a 12 step program and unlocked profound psychological healing there. My meditation practice began to flourish.
With gentle persistence, and a true home base, I have since reclaimed my mental health. I found my way back to playing, I’ve returned to painting for the first time since childhood, and I’m relearning how to relax, recharge, and how to sleep.
Nowadays, I speak to myself with kindness, and I am careful about who I surround myself with. With these practices, I continue to step into a bigger and bigger version of myself.
Heading Home
There comes a point when healing our own life is not enough though; the urge to help others is primal.
I launched Interconnected Us, which curates masterminds for women lawyers. I’m passionate about helping this population, which has enormous potential to effect change in the world - and barriers both internal and external. When you get powerful women into a room with their peers, they naturally help each other. Our relationships teach us how to protect our energy, how to leverage our time, and how to find the right person for every job that we need done - we are wasting valuable energy - and time - when we try to figure this all out by ourselves.
Professionally, in our initial masterminds, I’ve seen IU members double their billing rates, find bigger clients than they ever dreamed of landing, find their niche, and launch businesses. They’ve learned how to manage their cash, and how to speak with their inner critic. They set healthy boundaries at work, they delegate better at home, and they consider dreams they previously labeled unimaginable.
Statistically, when you teach a man to fish, he eats for a lifetime; but in every culture, when you teach a woman to fish, not only does she eat for a lifetime, but she teaches her family, and her community, to fish. Investing in women, including ourselves, is the most leveraged investment we can make. And who better to release out into the world and make positive change, than women lawyers?
My goal is to grow your influence, so you can take the goodness within you and be the change that this world needs.
xo R
P.S. Every other Tuesday, I drop tips to help women lawyers like you grab the steering wheel of your career, and your life. Curious what that could look like, for you? Sign up here for our newsletter, Brat Women Lawyers.
